


Date Night

by tttyg



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 17:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tttyg/pseuds/tttyg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete tries to get some one-on-one time with Patrick by getting him to watch a scary movie with him. Inspired by <a href="http://jackingtonoff.tumblr.com/post/57927945470">this.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Date Night

Pete feels like some kind of evil mastermind when his plan to get Patrick on his own works. It’s not like it was that hard; Pete had just complained that they never hung out anymore outside of band rehearsals in his parents’ basement, and they needed a break to do something more fun. Ideally “more fun” for Pete would be getting Patrick naked, but he’d suggested Patrick come over to Pete’s while his parents were out for dinner that Friday night, when he knew everybody else would be busy. He’d lured Patrick in with a bootleg copy of the overrated slasher movie Patrick had wanted to see last month but wasn’t old enough for. Patrick had tried to get Pete to go with him and sneak him into the theater but Pete had just let out a braying laugh and told him nobody would be fooled by that babyface (much to Patrick’s chagrin).

Pete puts far too much effort into selecting an outfit to wear considering they won’t even be leaving the house (which means that after he showers he actually puts on a clean pair of his tightest jeans and and a just-washed Saves The Day tshirt, rather than dragging on whatever is on top of the pile of clothes on his bedroom floor). When he comes downstairs at seven to see his parents off, his mother gives him an appraising look.

“You didn’t mention it was date night for you too.”

Pete just grins.

Less than ten minutes after his parents leave, there is a knock at the front door. Pete leaps up from the couch, tries to adjust his hair even though there are no mirrors nearby, and plasters a smile on his face as he opens it. Why is he so nervous? He wipes a sweaty palm on his jeans as he pulls Patrick off the front step and into the hallway with a one-armed hug, which the younger boy returns awkwardly with a shy smile. Pete has been all over Patrick any chance he could get since the day he met him and was suckered in by that fucking argyle sweater and shorts with socks combo, but Patrick still doesn’t seem to get that Pete’s affection is genuine and he wants Patrick to reciprocate.

“I was just gonna get some snacks ready,” Pete says, leading Patrick to the kitchen. He stands by the door while Pete grabs a bag of popcorn and some bags of candy, which he throws into one big bowl to carry through to the living room. He waves Patrick over to the couch while he puts the movie in, then bounds over to join him, turning the lights off on the way.

They start off at opposite ends of the couch, backs to the arms, socked toes touching in the middle. In the murky light from the TV screen, Pete can see that Patrick’s mouth is turned down, tight at the corners.

“How was school?” he asks cautiously. He’s only seen Patrick pissed off a few times, but it was enough to know that was something that should be avoided if he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of a verbal (and sometimes even physical) beating. For a little dude, Patrick sure had a big temper and some tough fists.

“Shit,” Patrick replies, wrinkling his nose and then pushing his glasses back up when they slip down. He tips his head back over the arm of the couch and rolls his eyes at the ceiling when he hears Pete take in a breath and cuts him off with, “I don’t want to talk about the dicks at school, okay? This is all I’ve been looking forward to all day, so can we just watch the movie?”

Pete knows that he meant he was looking forward to watching plastic teenagers be brutally murdered by some masked serial killer, not that he had spent all day thinking about being with Pete, but it still makes his heart constrict a little. He’s really that far gone, even if the object of his affections seems to have sadistic tendencies.

The movie jumps right into things with a brief suspenseful scene of an unseen killer stalking a teenage girl around her house during a powercut, before leaping out of the shadows and burying a serrated blade in her ample chest. It was recorded in the theater and the screams of the reacting audience are so loud that Patrick jumps enough for his body to actually leave the couch. Pete laughs hysterically even as Patrick grabs a cushion to smack him with, defending himself with raised forearms and kicking legs. When they’ve settled down, they’re both sitting further towards the middle of the couch with their legs drawn up, side by side.

“Don’t worry, Patrick,” Pete says, stretching his arm out along the back of the couch behind Patrick’s shoulders. “I’m here next time you get scared.”

Patrick mutters something that sounds like “ass” with his eyes still trained on the screen, but doesn’t shrug away from Pete’s arm, which is progress for him. He decides that he might as well push his luck a bit and wriggles a little closer as slowly as he can. The suspense is building onscreen again as the killer stalks the dead girl’s clueless jock boyfriend, and as the music intensifies he manages to get close enough that Patrick’s shoulder is tucked under his armpit. Patrick is leaning forward a little, wide eyes fixed on the screen and those perfect lips slightly parted in a show of fascination, but his hands are clenched in his lap and his white knuckles betray his act of being unruffled by the film.

Pete feels villainous again as he stares at Patrick’s mouth. Patrick is underage and he should not be having these thoughts about a boy five years younger than him, but he can’t help it. Pete has never been one to hold back and he really, really, just wants to kiss Patrick right now.

So he goes for it. He leans in as the discordant music reaches a crescendo, but at that moment the killer seizes the boyfriend from behind and slits his throat. Patrick screams – Pete didn’t know his falsetto was that good – and leaps backwards, his elbow coming up and smacking Pete in the face.

“Motherfuck-"

Pete’s pout dissolves into a grimace as he falls sideways on the couch, clutching his nose. Patrick yelps again when he realizes what he’s done and jumps up, hovering worriedly in front of Pete.

“Shit, Pete, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-"

Behind Patrick, the killer is disembowelling the boyfriend while he gurgles out his last breaths, but Pete is fixated on Patrick’s genuinely stricken expression, the blood rushing to his cheeks and the thin sheen of sweat gathering on his forehead. Patrick’s cap has fallen off somewhere but he seems to be too embarrassed over Pete to grab it back like he normally would. Pete’s nose throbs and he sits up properly with his back against the arm of the couch, drawing his knees up. He tilts his head back, blinking away the black fuzzy spots that fade in and out with the waves of pain in his nose.

“Let me see. Are you bleeding? Did I-?”

Pete grunts and tries to move away from Patrick’s reaching hands to avoid more pain, but this leads to Patrick kneeling on the couch and pushing forward, pulling Pete’s hands away from his face. Pete is about to complain because he is thoroughly disgruntled about this unexpectedly painful turn of events, but then he realizes something. Patrick is right in front of him, his upper body leaning between Pete’s thighs, his face barely a foot away as he examines Pete with concerned eyes.

“You’re not bleeding, and it doesn’t look broken,” Patrick says seriously, balancing himself with one hand on Pete’s knee as he pushes his glasses back up his nose again. “I’m really sorry man, I didn’t… what?”

Pete hasn’t stopped staring at him. Patrick returns his gaze for a long second, and Pete thinks he sees something familiar in his eyes, darker than usual. Then he seems to become conscious of their position and tries to draw back, but Pete follows him up and stops him gently with a hand on the back of his neck. They stay frozen for another second, Patrick’s teeth digging into his lower lip, and Pete gives Patrick a chance to slap his hand away and retreat to the opposite end of the couch, but he doesn’t. He stays. And Pete leans forward, keeping his eyes on Patrick’s, and closes the distance between their lips until there isn’t any. And Patrick’s hand is suddenly in Pete’s hair, hesitantly running down the back of his neck lightly, but it’s enough to make him shiver. He cradles the back of Patrick’s head and tries not to gasp when Patrick loses his balance and falls on top of Pete, pushing him back down onto the couch. Their lips have broken apart and Patrick stares down at Pete through glasses knocked askew, breathing a little heavily, lips red and pupils dilated in the darkness. It’s probably obvious to Patrick, pressed against Pete like he is, that Pete is more than a little turned on. He tries to think of something to say, hopes to hell that Patrick isn’t frozen against him because he’s realizing that he made a terrible mistake, when Patrick shifts his hips against Pete’s. Oh. Patrick’s body is _definitely_ reciprocating.

Pete lets out a strangled sound when Patrick does it again, and then Patrick’s lips are twisting into what can only be described as a smirk as he observes the effect he’s having on Pete. Pete was wrong. Patrick is the evil one in this situation.

This is confirmed when Patrick grinds against Pete roughly and leans down, pushing his tongue into Pete’s mouth and – oh God. Where did this Patrick come from? What happened to the adorably shy kid in the argyle sweater who didn’t think he could sing? Pete’s brain is a little fried with sensory overload because that’s Patrick he can taste, the weight of Patrick’s body against him, and is that Patrick’s hand creeping up under Pete’s clean-on t-shirt?

When Patrick’s callused fingertips brush his nipple ring Pete is shocked back into reality and he scrambles backwards, Patrick almost falling face-first into Pete’s crotch, which would really derail Pete’s attempt to stop things going too far.

“Did I do something…?” Patrick sits back on his heels and wipes his wet mouth with the back of the hand that had been under Pete’s shirt and oh fuck, Pete has to look away and try to think about anything but what’s going on in his pants. Why did he have to develop a conscience now?

“Uh, hell no. That was…” Pete sits up beside Patrick and runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s… we can’t do this, Patrick. You’re too-"

“Too young?” Pete doesn’t even need to be looking at Patrick to know that he’ll have one eyebrow cocked and his mouth will be set in a grim line. “Fuck that, Pete, you can’t just kiss me like that and then just – just –"

Pete groans and flops backwards, putting his hands over his face and wincing when he presses his nose and triggers a flare of pain. Funny how it hadn’t hurt at all when Patrick had been rutting between his legs. _Nope, don’t think about that, don’t think about Patrick’s mouth._

Even though by this point they’ve missed enough of the movie that neither of them knows what’s going on, Pete grabs for the remote and turns the volume on the TV up in a desperate attempt to distract them both (why did he think it’d be a good idea to wear his tightest jeans, _why?_ ) but Patrick isn’t having any of it.

“Look, Pete, we can’t just pretend that never happened. I’m not going to – I don’t want to,” he says, snatching the remote and tossing it aside. His lower lip is jutting out in a show of stubbornness but he just looks adorable, and it serves to remind Pete how young he actually is.

“I’m not saying we should,” Pete replies. He lets out a sigh and reaches his arm out for Patrick, who hesitates for an awful second before shifting close enough for Pete to put his arm around him. “Just, we can’t do this right now. Not yet.”

There’s enough of a promise in that for Patrick to relax against Pete.

Then Pete has to spoil it with, “I don’t want to go to jail for stealing your virtue.”

Patrick digs his elbow into Pete’s ribs and reaches down to the floor for his hat, jamming it back onto his head and flopping back down as far from Pete as the couch will allow. But even as he folds his arms in annoyance Pete could swear he heard him mutter something about it not being stealing if the person wants you to have it. Oops. That seems to have caused another stirring in Pete’s crotch. Patrick is still mumbling about the irony of Pete being concerned about breaking the law while they watch a pirated copy of a movie he's too young for when Pete stretches out his leg and pokes Patrick's thigh with his foot.

“Look, Trick, I’m sorry. Let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”

So they both go back to staring at the screen, pretending to be engrossed in the lack of plot and repetitive killings. But whether by accident or design, Patrick moves a little closer to Pete every time he jumps, and eventually he’s somehow snug against Pete’s side with his head tucked under Pete’s chin. Pete thinks that Patrick has maybe forgiven him, until the next jump has Patrick’s head smacking into Pete’s chin hard enough for him to bite his tongue. The quiet snicker that follows has Pete wanting to seize Patrick’s jaw and kiss him hard enough to bruise to teach him a lesson, but he’s comfortable enough in this moment, with Patrick curled against him, knowing that he can wait.


End file.
